


Her First Season

by sec982



Category: Bridgerton (TV)
Genre: Children of Characters, F/M, Future Fic, Multi, Overprotective
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-02-12
Updated: 2021-03-06
Packaged: 2021-03-12 03:53:38
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 4
Words: 5,289
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29378787
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sec982/pseuds/sec982
Summary: Daphne and Simon have been married for years and have five wonderful children. Simon is perfectly content with his life until his only daughter has her very first season. Simon Basset has never related to or understood Anthony Birdgerton better.He wants Thatcher Winthrop to stay as far away from his daughter as possible.
Relationships: Daphne Bridgerton/Simon Basset, Original Female Character/Original Male Character
Comments: 51
Kudos: 163





	1. Chapter One

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm going to say from the top that I got the second dose of the COVID vaccine yesterday. I feel like I have the flu and have not been sleeping well. Normally I can and do beta my own work and do pretty well, but you can't do that when you have a fever so if there are any typos, I apologize in advance. 
> 
> I had the idea for this story kicking around in my head for a while. I'm currently reading "The Duke and I" so if there are any details about Daphne and Simon's kids that I don't get right, that's why. Plus even if I was aware of what their kids turn out to be like, I would probably still do original characters. I love some future kids. I hope you all enjoy and stay safe and healthy!

The Duke of Hastings had never pictured himself as being a family man. In his youthful days of rakedom, he vowed to himself to never have children, to never procreate, to let his father’s precious line and precious blood die with him. As such he never considered what fatherhood would be like, so when he found himself a father he had to take it one day at a time, never knowing how he would feel until the moment came to pass. 

He remembered the pure joy that came when his eldest son took his first steps. It was identical to the joy he felt when each subsequent child took shaking steps on the rug of the same nursery. He remembered the fear he felt when his daughter was constantly suffering from earaches and high fevers for months during her first year of life, and the doctors warned it could be a symptom of deafness to come later in life. He remembered the relief he felt when that same precious, first daughter, only daughter, of his turned her head at the sound of her mother playing the piano. Her eyes lit up and as Simon bounced her on his hips in the sitting room, he knew she could hear and would forever be as enchanted by music as her mother was. 

It was only fitting that she was named Cadence. As their third child, her name had to start with the letter C and Daphne had picked it. She named her only daughter for the music she played lovingly throughout each of her pregnancies. And did Cadence ever love music? As a child, she would sit under her mother’s piano and press the pedals for her. She grew to love the viola and mastered it and singing with loving grace. Simon took great pride in listening to the music his wife and daughter created. 

Of their five children, Cadence remained the only girl, in the middle of four rambunctious boys. While her older brother Albert and Benjamin were too mature to play, her younger brothers Daniel and Elliot grew up rolling around on the rug as Cadence mastered every piece of music known to man, and began creating her own. Her presence and her musical skills were such a norm that the Duke of Hastings took for granted the idea that they would always be there, a constant presence that would always uplift his house, as he taught Albert everything there was to know about their land.

But as has been said, the Duke of Hastings never considered fatherhood and the various moments that would come with it. He was blindsided by each of his children’s milestones, but none were as shocking to him as the one that started the night a knock came at his door. 

-**-

They opened without waiting for an answer, as he knew they would. His wife had long since stopped asking permission to enter his room. They shared a bed still more nights than not, and her room was kept up mostly for show. Though they had not been blessed with a child in years, their “spirited endeavors” as she still liked to call them, had never abated. 

He was undoing his cufflinks, watching her closely, planning how best to let events unfold when he caught the look in her eyes. She sat on the edge of his bed, pulling her nightgown around her shoulders. He turned watching her, giving her his best-crooked smile. 

“My love?” he said simply, knowing after years of marriage this was the best way to approach her when she had a thought. He was prepared for her to begin telling him about a villager who had approached her with a problem that had upset her greatly. His wife was a caring duchess, and the people had learned over the years the quickest way to the Duke’s ear was through his wife’s bleeding heart. What she actually said brought him up short.

“I think it is time for Cadence to lower her hems, just around the house. So she can get used to them.” 

Simon blinked. “Whatever for?”

“So when she comes out this season or next she does not stumble in public.”

“Come out? Daph, she is not coming out anytime soon. She’s too young.”

“Simon,” Daphne could not hide her laugh. “She’s the same age I was when I had my first season and you courted me.”

“No, she’s not, you were much older.”

“I was 21 Simon, the same age our daughter will turn in a fortnight.”

“I meant in experience. You lived life, but all Cadence does is learn instruments. She is not ready.”

“That is perhaps the most ridiculous thing you have ever said. You clearly have forgotten the young girl you married had no idea what was meant to happen in a marital bed. Cadence is at least aware of how babies are made, and you forget she assisted on that birth two years ago when Mrs. Codwell was away.”

“And how did our daughter learn such things,” Simon snapped, suddenly distracted from her original point. 

“I told her,” Daphne said casually, undoing her hair, and letting her red locks cascade down her back.

“You what!” 

“Well, you could hardly expect the girl to help cover for the midwife during a birth and not have questions. And I vowed when she was born, that I would never make the same mistakes as my mother when it came to our daughter’s education about her body.”

“Daphne!” Simon said, turning back to his dresser and tossing his crovet violently down. “I do not wish to think of our daughter’s body in that manner.”

“You do not have to, my love. You simply must tell me your thoughts on lowering her hems.” 

“No. She is too young.”

“I see. And when do you propose we lower them? When she is old and grey? She has to find a husband for security unless you want her brothers to always care for a spinster sister.”

“Daphne! Do you hear yourself! Do you understand what would happen to our daughter if she married? What husbands do to wives?”

“I believe I remember what husbands do to wives, vividly,” she said with a coy smile, getting to her feet and walking to Simon. He turned to embrace her. She placed her hands on his chest.

“Don’t you think,” she said, tilting her head, looking up at him, staring deeply into his eyes. “She deserves a chance to find what we have?” 

“Most are not so lucky as you, Bridgertons. Love matches are rare.” 

“Hmm,” she said, casting her wide eyes off to the side of a moment before bringing them back to his serious face. “I hear, they are especially rare if you are never even allowed to look for them.” 

Simon huffed, looking at the ceiling, feeling his wife smooth down his shirt, brushing away the wrinkles. 

“It is simply a small step Simon. We are not introducing her to society. We are simply lowering her hems around the house, so she has a chance to practice, learn to walk in them and such.”

Simon shook his head. Another milestone in his children's' lives had caught him completely by surprise. He leaned his forehead into his wife.

“She’s not leaving us?”

“She will never leave us, my love. Even when she is married, we will see her as often as I see my own family. That is what happens when you are raised in a home with love. Even in married life, you choose to come back to it.”

Simon sighed. “Just around the house?”

“Just around the house your grace.” She said his title with a rye smile and he cracked under her calm demeanor and joy.

“I suppose. If you think it's time.”

“I do.”

“Then you should take her to the modiste.” 


	2. Chapter Two

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm not sure how this little story has already got so many hits with just one chapter, but it does. Thank you all so much for taking the time to read! I am awed. I love the comments and treasure each one, even if I don't reply to them all. 
> 
> I'll be updating this story every Friday, just so you are all aware. Thank you for reading and please stay safe and healthy!

Simon was sipping whiskey. He was standing in the back of the room, avoiding eye contact with his surrogate mother, watching as his daughter stepped lightly on the other side of the dance floor. Her arm was entwined with Albert’s, who seemed too at ease for his father’s likings. Did the boy not realize his sister was attending the first ball of her first season? He could see the sharks swarming. He gritted his teeth and downed his whiskey. 

His foot had hardly hit the floor in a purposeful step when he spotted a ruffle of purple out of the corner of his eye. He winced and made to turn quickly.

“I have already seen you, your grace,” said an ancient voice. Simon grimaced and turned back towards the hostess for the evening. 

“Lady Danbury.” He gave a curt bow to his surrogate mother, wondering how she could still attend, let alone throw, balls at her advanced age, while simultaneously thanking whatever gods it was he believed in that they had been blessed in keeping her so long.

“I saw you stalking towards your children,” she tisked, stepping to his side and entwining their arms, as she had a thousand times before.

On second thought maybe those gods should take her now. 

“I would hardly describe taking one lone step as stalking.”

“Stalking is in the shoulders and eyes my boy, and your stance was that of a lion about to pounce.” She poked at his side with her cane-wielding hand and he felt a smile tug at his lips despite himself. 

“And if I wish to speak to my children there is nothing wrong with that.”

“Oh, but there is in fact.” She was steering them towards the refreshment table.

“How so?”

“Your duchess has tasked me with making sure you do not scare off any suitors. She said to remind you her brother, doing as your instincts seem to demand, is what brought about a certain Nigel Berbrooke.”

“God that pig,” Simon said, snorting and casting a doubtful eye back towards his daughter.

“I recall some rather tawdry details in Lady Whistledown about the fellow, so if she for some reason thinks you will make the snakes come out of the woodwork, perhaps it best for you to keep your wife satisfied and accompany an old lady to the refreshment table.” 

-**-

“I’m surprised Papa is not upon us by now?” Cadence Basset said looking behind her once again.

“He is with Grandmama Danbury,” Albert said, giving her a subtle pull back around to the front. “Now eyes forward or the gentlemen will think you nervous and not approach.”

“Oh, now gentlemen are turned off by nerves?” Cadence said, smiling despite her actually very present nerves. “And how would you know that?”

“Am I not like these same gentlemen you wish to impress?”

“You flatter yourself, brother.”

“Oh please,” he scoffed. “You’d be lucky to get a gentleman of my caliber.”

“I did not realize we had such low expectations for me.” 

She raised her eyebrows, and a smile cracked across her brother’s caramel-colored face.  “Basset!” a serious voice called from behind them. The pair turned to see a tall gentleman with a shock of blond hair approaching. Cadence blinked, taking in his dark green jacket and tails. Her own teal gown ruffled slightly as she stepped away from her brother, folding her gloved hands politely. 

“Winthrop,” Albert answered. The man, Winthrop, moved closer to them, and the men exchanged a brief formal handshake. Cadence watched closely as the men withdrew back into themselves. She looked between them carefully. 

“So sorry to interrupt, but I needed to discuss an urgent matter with you regarding your brother.”

“Which one?” Albert said with a congenial twitch of his lips. “I have three.”

“Benjamin,” the man answered with a serious frown, not matching Albert’s tone.

“Ah, I see. What has Benjamin done now?”

“It’s in regards to his outstanding debts at the club in town. I heard some patrons complaining to the owners during my last, very brief visit, you know I don’t much care for the place.”

“Yes, yes,” Albert said, nodding curtly. “We all know you care not for even the barest form of entertainment.”

Winthrop blinked. “Naturally, I assumed you would rather it be taken care of before word got out to society at large.”

“Thank you, Winthrop, yes I will handle it.” 

The man nodded, not sparing one glance for Cadence. She watched him go, walking stiffly across the room.

“Who was that?” she asked, frowning. 

“Thatcher Winthrop, the oldest son of the Duke of Westone.”

“Westone?” Cadence repeated. “But that borders Hastings. How have I never met him, if he’s only a quarter day’s ride away?”

“Winthrop has never been one to make or accept house calls, sister. He is a stiff board when it comes to personality, but with less tack. You see how he brought up Benji’s gambling debts so casually in this setting. In front of you, whom he has never met. For all he knew, I could have been courting you, and his little speech would have ruined all hope I had of making a good impression. If you were not family, our house would have been completely humiliated by his actions.” 

Cadence looked at her brother, taking in his agitation. He only spoke this much when he was truly upset. 

“You dislike him that much then do you?” she asked.

“A complete bore. I have known him since boyhood when papa would occasionally take me riding to his part of the country. I have never once seen him smile, forget laughing. He is the last person on earth, anyone should have to spend time with.”

Cadence’s heart broke. To have never laughed or smiled in the comfort of others sounded like a miserable life indeed. She had not lost him yet in the crowd and took in his stiff appearance, talking to one of the mamas with a pretty daughter, sporting a bow in her red hair. Cadence’s lips parted slightly, and she considered her options. She turned to her brother.

“How much would you bet me?”


	3. Chapter Three

_ Cadence Basset, according to society’s assumptions, simply must be a tomboy. She grew up, after all, in such isolation, with no proper lady playmates. She only had her four brothers for company and the village children. We here in London have been picturing the only daughter of the famous love match, to be running wild through the fields of Hastings, chasing geese and cows and learning to ride horses at speeds unbefitting for a proper young lady. _

_ And none of us judged the Duke or Duchess for allowing such outlandish behavior. After all, it was assumed the girl would not live to see her second birthday. Then when she did the doctors said she would never be able to hear. Rumors flew from one side of London to the other and back that the sickly child was dead or deaf or somehow both. Though this author would like to note that technically all dead people are deaf.  _

_ When this season launched, I found myself braced, for a wild creature to emerge from Clyvedon to be presented to the Queen by the Duchess. I imagined it would be the likes of which had not been seen since Ms. Featherington fainted while curtseying to her regent. Imagine my shock then dear reader, when the Duchess of Hastings arrived with, not the wild creature, we had been promised through years of gossip, but rather a quaffed beauty.  _

_ Ms. Cadence Basset walked into the room, with her asinine alphabetical name, and curtsied to her queen with practiced perfect precision. She is breathtaking, resembling her father in every way from her coloring to her eyes, but holding herself with poise and grace and confidence that could only be, simply Bridgerton.  _

_ While this season has yet to have an incomparable emerge, Ms. Basset has come out with a spectacular presentation and a breathtaking appearance. Perhaps the only reason she has yet to take the title from the other ladies is the simple fact that remains to all of us in London, a complete enigma.  _

_ Sincerely,  _

_ Lady Whistledown _

-**-

Cadence Basset knew exactly who she was from a young age. One could not nearly die before learning to speak, without some level of clarity. At least in her opinion. She was a lover. She loved music most of all, but her passions extended far beyond. She adored the smell of grass and gun powder and would often sit at her piano, windows open, pretending to compose listening to her brothers shooting in the back terrace. She adored minced meat pies and the feel of books from her grandmama’s library in her hands. They were somehow more satisfying than the ones in her own parents' library. 

But then it would circle back to music and there was nothing like it in Cadence Basset’s opinion. It moved her soul. It got through to her when nothing else could or would. There was no problem time spent at a pianoforte or viola could not solve. Her mother had tried to expand her repertoire several times, encouraging her to learn foreign languages or embroidery or painting, but nothing moved Cadence like music, and once she had found that true love, everything else paled in comparison.

She reminded her mother of this when Daphne told her it was time to lower her hems. She would never love a husband as much as she loved music. She would never want to. She said it again when her mother had helped her decide on a dress and set of her hair for this very ball. Daphne had smoothed down her tight curls and leaned into her daughter’s soft hair, whispering to keep an open mind. Love could come from all places. 

Cadence was no blushing lady of the court. She knew love matches, true love, and matches, like her parents, were rare, an impossible thing to find. As far as she was concerned her mother, uncles and aunts had used all the luck during their own courting. She had no hope of finding a true love match, and as such had only one goal. Find a husband who was close to her mother, to her father, to her home. And if that failed, which was likely, as there were not many noblemen near Hastings, then her husband should at least be able to provide her with a music room.

As she approached Thatcher Whinthorp who had managed to extract himself from a conversation with no grace at all, she realized he actually fit both of her criteria. As if she needed more incentive than her brother simply saying the man never laughed. Another one of Cadence’s great loves was a challenge. She was never able to turn one down, especially not when it came from one of her brothers. The only thing better than beating them at challenge was getting them to bet her she could not do it. She loved a tangible prize almost as much as her brothers’ humiliation.

She was convinced, at the time, that she was approaching the hapless gentlemen with no malice in her heart, and no intention of using him. She simply wanted to prove her brother wrong, and make him laugh. 

“Mr. Winthrop!” she said, just loud enough for him to hear her over the string quartet. He turned, his jacket swishing with his movement. 

“Yes?” he said, frowning at her. 

“We have not been properly introduced,” she extended her hand, which he took slowly, looking at her pensively. “Though I hear we are neighbors.” 

“I beg your pardon, but I do not know of any Ladies in my father’s land.” 

“No sir,” she said, frowning. “My name is Cadence Basset.”

He blinked.

“I was unaware the Duke and Duchess of Hastings had a living daughter. I thought their only baby girl was a horrible sickly thing who died.” 

Cadence felt her jaw, set despite herself, momentarily forgetting her intention of making him laugh. 

“I assure you Mr. Winthrop that I am very much alive.”

“Not deaf or a gimp then?” he asked with a frown.

“Excuse you,” she said, shaking slightly and raising her eyebrows. 

“Well, I assume there must be something wrong with you, or Basset would have introduced us.”

“Hmm,” she said, nodding slowly. “Perhaps he was distracted by your tackless insinuations that our brother is a drunk, a gambler, and a cheat.”

“I never implied drunk,” Winthrop said, casting his eyes overhead with a sigh. 

“But you do not deny you believe a brother of mine to be a gambler and a cheat.”

“Have I offended you?”

“Greatly.” She scoffed, making to turn and go. Damn the bet. Albert could have this one. The future duke caught her with his words.

“Ms. Basset!” He was loud over the orchestra and few people turned to stare at them. Cadence winched and turned back to him to prevent him from stirring up a larger scene. He took a step closer, lowering his voice.

“Since you say I have offended you let me offer you the sincerest apologies I can.”

“Thank you,” she began. He interrupted. 

“But let me clarify. These apologies are not very sincere because I do not feel remorse. Your second eldest brother has gotten himself into a tight spot, and if my theories regarding his debts are correct there are mere days between him and utter ruin, which would prompt your father to step in, roiling your family in scandal at this very precarious moment of your coming out into society. I informed your brother as soon as I was aware, in order for him to act as swiftly as possible. If you were to look behind you now, you would see him discussing something quietly and urgently with your father. I have done your family a great service, and I do not feel any form of sincere regret if I have offended you in the process.”

Cadence blinked, scowling at him. 

“Excuse me for not believing your motives to be pure.”

“And why ever not Ms. Basset?”

“You said, not moments before that long-winded speech that you did not know the Hastings had a daughter, yet you claim to be motivated to save my family from scandal during my first season. You recognize, of course, Mr. Winthrop, that it is impossible to consider how something will affect me if you are unaware of my existence.”

“Ah,” he said with a smile, tipping his head slightly towards her. “Well, Ms. Basset, I was able to deduce how your brother’s debts would affect you in mere moments. I am a very quick thinker.”

“That I doubt,” she said, shifting her feet, preparing to depart truly this time. 

“How so?”

“If you were a quick thinker, you’d be able to navigate with more social grace.” 

Mr. Winthrop remained silent, looking her over firmly, narrowing eyes, assessing her. It made her straighten her spine, as though she was about to play on the forte. 

“Enjoy your evening, Mr. Winthrop.” She gave a quick courtesy and turned away from the gentleman, returning to her brother and father. They stopped speaking abruptly as she approached. 

“How is Mr. Winthrop this evening Cadence?”

“Very dense and inept at reading someone’s mood,” she answered, accepting the lemonade her brother offered. Simon smiled.

“He did not have the benefit of growing up with such wonderful siblings or a mother able to teach him the proper etiquette. Extend kindness Cadence.” Her father touched her shoulder briefly before moving away. 

Albert smiled. “Now I did not see even a slight chuckle from our dear Winthrop, so I believe that means I get to pick your next dance partner. Come.”

“Dare I ask?”

“I hear there is a Norbert Tiwell here who has three left feet.”

“Three!” 

Neither of them noticed Thatcher Winthrop watching them, from the edge of the room, nursing his own whiskey. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So I have not finished reading the series. I did finish the first book, but I'm not sure when *spoiler* gets outted as Lady Whistledown, in the books, but I've decided she's still writing in this universe. Mostly because I love writing sections of this story and reading them back to myself in Julia Andrew's voice. 
> 
> Anyway, I hope you all enjoyed this chapter and that you have a good weekend! Please say safe and healthy!


	4. Chapter Four

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I know I missed updating yesterday. I often get busy or distracted on Friday. Anyway, I hope you all don't mind the late update, but the wait wasn't too long hopefully. 
> 
> I hope you all have a good weekend! And that you stay safe and healthy!

Daphne much preferred to be in Hasting’s house than at Clyvedon. It was closer to her mother and Anthony. She appreciated being able to walk across town and be at her childhood home in mere minutes, but she did not think her children appreciated it as much. Truth be told, each trip into London had left her wondering how her mother had raised eight children without rolling fields to send them off to when they were getting underfoot. And she only had five! 

Though it was unclear if Cadence counted. She never got underfoot, unless you count when she would press Daphne’s piano pedals for her when she was a child. That was quite literally underfoot. At the moment though, Cadence Basset was perfectly capable of reaching her own pedals. She was doing so spectacularly. Her fingers were flying across the keys in the family sitting room, playing out a piece by Beethoven, one she’d mastered at a young age. Daphne knew she was warming up before composing. 

The Duchess sat, her tea forgotten on a table, immersed in her book, while her youngest Daniel and Elliot, who were a mere sixteen and fourteen conversed quietly on the couch. She pretended to read, even turning pages occasionally, while really keeping her ears trained on her sons. It was difficult, what with Cadence’s powerful strokes of the keys, but motherhood had sharpened Daphne's ears long ago.

“I heard his debts are twice the allowance papa gave him for the season,” Elliot whispered.

“Now that’s just ridiculous,” Daniel scoffed, loving to be able to lord knowledge over his little brother’s head.

“I heard Papa and Al talking about it, just last night.”

“When?”

“When they retired to the study for drinks after the ball.”

“Elliot Bassett,” Daphne said, unable to pretend she was deaf any longer. ‘What are you doing, listening at your father’s study?”

“I wasn’t listening on purpose,” Elliot grumbled, still childlike when it came to reprimands. “I had my window open and so did Papa. I’m right over the study Mama. I couldn’t help it.” 

“He’s making it up Mama,” Daniel said, eyes wide as he looked at her. “Benji wouldn’t have amassed that kind of debt. Would he?” 

“What are we talking about?” Simon asked, entering the drawing-room from the hall and frowning at his sons.

“Apparently,” Daphne said, tossing her head slightly and bringing her book back up, “You left your window open during a conversation with Al about Benji, and Elliot claims to have been able to hear the whole thing.”

“Not claims,” the boy huffed. “I could.” 

Daphne made eye contact with Cadence as Simon gave Elliot a light scolding about not repeating things he overheard to his brother or anyone for that matter. Cadence had not stopped playing, very typical for her. She rarely stopped when playing for something as petty as a conversation. Though Daphne guessed her daughter was listening to every word, based on the number of times a wrong note was touched accidentally. It was rare for Cadence to make such a mistake, and Daphne had caught three since Elliot and Daniel started this line of discourse. 

Simon dismissed his sons, telling them to go take a turn about the square. He turned to his wife, kissing her on the temple, as was his habit whenever he entered a room with her in it. 

“Everything alright with Benji, Papa?” Cadence asked, frowning at her keys, fingers never slowing.

“Are you eavesdropping too now?” Daphne asked, raising an eyebrow.

“Of course not Mama. I was simply standing next to Albert when the problem was brought to his attention.”

“How-” Daphne began, but her husband cut her off, changing the subject abruptly. 

“No callers today Cadence?”

“Not a one.”

“Good,” Simon said, picking up one of Daphne’s abandoned biscuits. The music faltered for a moment. Daphne stared at him. Cadence only spared a glance. Simon grimaced, realizing what he said he had to take a bite of scone to stop his tongue from tripping over the first syllable.

“Good?” Daphne repeated, voice and eyes sharp.

“I just meant the peace and quiet is nice, not that-”

“It’s alright Papa,” Cadence said, eyes back on the piano. “I know what you meant.”

Daphne tilted her head, studying her daughter. Simon’s brow furrowed. 

“Cadence,” he began slowly. “If you do not wish to be out or to marry we can return to Clyvedon. There is nothing wrong with it, and I will make sure your brothers know you are to be cared for. You will be in no danger.”

“Papa,” Cadence said, still playing Beethoven, but flawlessly now. “We both know that is not an option. I am the only daughter of a prominent Duke. Spinsterhood would be a shame upon the Hastings name or whatnot.”

“Oh damn the name,” Simon snapped, but he was interrupted on his tirade by a swift knock at the door. Jefferies entered giving a little bow. 

“There is a Lord Thatcher Winthrop calling,” he announced. 

“What could Winthrop possibly want now?” Simon grumbled to himself mostly, turning away from his daughter towards Jefferies. “Tell him I will receive him in my study and have a round of whiskey brought up. A good one. Westone will have my head if he thinks we snubbed his son, no matter how many times the man has snubbed me.”

“My apologies, Your Grace,” Jefferies said, face purposefully impassive. “There is a Lord Thatcher Winthrop calling on Lady Cadence. Basset.” 

The music actually did cease playing that time. Cadence had been in the middle of a stanza and the sound came to a dead stop.

Daphne’s book fell into her lap. 

“Thatcher Winthrop, you said Jefferies?”

“Yes Your Grace.”

“The eldest son of the Duke of Westone?”

“Yes,” Simon said, face stony. 

“And he is here to see Cadence?”

“Yes Your Grace.”

“Send him in,” Daphne said, getting to her feet, and dashing around Simon to her daughter. She smoothed her hair down. “Duke of Westone Cadence!” she said with a smile and slightly raised voice. She winced thinking she sounded too much like Violet Bridgerton. At this moment though it did not matter.

“The seat of their dukedom is but two towns from ours!”

“I’m aware where the Duke of Westone lives,” Cadence said. Her fingers were still hovering over the piano keys. She did not even try to shake off her mama as she smoothed her hair. “But what is he doing here?”

“He is here to see you,” Daphne said. “Simon!” 

Her husband was rooted to the spot by the piano, not moving, staring at where Jefferies disappeared as though the man was still standing there. It took him a moment to shake himself back to awareness.

“What?”

“You're blocking the door. I want Lord Winthrop to be able to see Cadence at the piano as soon as he enters.” 

“What?”

“Move!” she hissed and gave her husband a little shove. He took a few steps to the side, looking between Cadence and the door in confusion. 

“Cadence, start playing again,” Daphne muttered. “It will seem odd if you are at the piano but not playing.” 

Cadence’s lips were parted. She was running through their brief conversation last night. She had not seen Mr. Winthrop again for the rest of the evening. He had not asked her to dance or to promenade or sent flowers or other such gifts to the house. He had given no indication that he wanted to court her. In fact, their only exchange had been terse, essentially an argument. What was he thinking?

“Play,” her mother repeated out of the corner of her mouth, and out of habit, Cadence’s fingers began to move on the keys again. Her spine straightened automatically and she was hardly aware of what notes she was hitting when the door opened. 


End file.
